I have lost my way a little
What, with sciatica
Toothache
And a swiftly diminishing bank balance
I have turned to old love
To write of love
I have gone back to past times
To pass this time of life
The spiders web
Woven from banister batik
To window, to wall
Developed day by day
Yet I don’t see the protagonist
Neither do I ever hear from the old love
Perhaps they, as I myself
Maybe they have also lost their way
I listen to Gregorian chant
Congratulate myself on the fact
That today the margins do not slope
I am, so it appears, almost upright
